


Entropy

by OfHealingLove



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dark, F/M, Slavery, Time Travel AU, major character death is canon compliant, original fuuinjutsu, original jutsu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfHealingLove/pseuds/OfHealingLove
Summary: When Sakura is sent careening into the past to the Warring States Era, her first priority is to get back to the present time. What is not a priority is to be captured by the Uchiha clan and forced into servitude under Madara. Unable to kill him because Konoha hasn't been formed yet, she is tricked and finds herself his slave.





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is the reposting of Entropy from my Fanfiction account. Here you will find the omitted explicit scenes that are not shown on my Fanfiction.net account. I will be posting one or two chapters every day until this is complete, as it's already complete on Fanfiction. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: Lost

_“NARUTO!”_

Her yell seemed to echo back at her in the strangest of ways. Then, there was a blur of color, flashing images passing by too quickly to discern what they were, and then she was staring up through the leaves of tall, near-ancient trees and hearing the chirping of crickets and other night wildlife.

Haruno Sakura sat up and glanced around at her surroundings. Naruto, beaten and bloodied as he had been, was nowhere to be seen, as well as any trace of Tobi, the masked man they’d been fighting who had almost killed Naruto in the process of trying to weaken him for capture. They had been on their way back from a two-man mission in one of the outer-lying towns on the border of the Fire Nation. They had been probably four or five miles away when Tobi had assaulted them, determined to eliminate Sakura and capture Naruto himself.

After Pein’s failed attack on Konoha, the Akatsuki were apparently getting desperate.

Naruto had put up a great fight, but it had been because of her that he’d been so wounded. He’d deflected a killing blow and had, in turn, gotten his right arm cut off. Tobi had been relentless after that and Naruto was quickly bleeding out, so Sakura had found no other option than to save Naruto’s life in what was now, admittedly, perhaps not the wisest of decisions.

It was called the Return to Past jutsu that she, Tsunade, and Shizune had been working on perfecting. When executed correctly, it returned the user to their previous state before the injury. It was highly chakra-consuming and had been meant to only be used in life-or-death situations—and it had been, but the difference between its intended use and how she had used it was the fact that it…hadn’t really been perfected yet.

She had been performing the jutsu and Naruto’s arm had been returned to him…at least she thought so. Tobi hadn’t been too pleased, she remembered, because he’d used his time-space jutsu to interrupt the process of channeling her chakra into her best friend’s arm. The last thing she’d seen was Naruto bringing up the once-severed arm to attack Tobi, even though her jutsu hadn’t completed yet, and then Tobi had interrupted them. She vaguely remembered their chakras clashing before she screamed her friend’s name and now…here she was, neither Naruto nor Tobi anywhere to be seen. There wasn’t even a sign of a battle, not even a scuffle; the trees obliterated by her chakra-filled punches were just as they had been before they’d been destroyed and there was no blood, no scorch marks from the rasengan, not even a stray kunai stuck in one of the trees to demonstrate a missed attack.

There was nothing, and in some ways that was more terrifying than being at the scene of the battle.

Something was clearly very, very wrong.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath, Sakura noticed that the air here was strangely fresher than it had been before this occurrence, and not just in the sense of not being filled with the stench of blood. It was definitely different; cleaner; the word _newer_ came to mind, but that didn’t make sense. There wasn’t such a thing as ‘old air,’ at least not in this context.

She started to take in more of her surroundings. She was in a clearing much like the one she and Naruto had fought in, although again, devoid of battle. The stars were bright and the night sky clear and pristine…which was odd, because the sky had been overcast with a winter storm on the way when they had taken a rest before finishing the trek to Konoha.

Next, she glanced down at herself, assessing her injuries. She had several deep cuts on her arms and plenty of welts all over from blocking. The bandages around her shins were all but obliterated and her sandals were torn in a most uncomfortable way. Her clothes were covered in blood—mostly not hers—and dried flecks of the substance covered most of her upper body as well.

Detecting a broken rib or two, Sakura groaned. She didn’t have enough chakra to do anything for her wounds at the moment, so she would simply have to grin and bear it.

The only thing next was action. She needed to report to the Hokage right away.

Shakily, the pinkette got to her feet and took a feeble step forward. No good; she was not only out of chakra, but facing chakra-exhaustion as well. Stumbling over to the nearest tree root, Sakura figured that there wasn’t much else she could do other than let herself rest. From what she could tell, she was safe. There weren’t any chakra signatures in her vicinity and what she really needed was a good nap. Absently Sakura felt for her vial of soldier pills, remembering having given her last one to Naruto. As the vial turned out empty, she knew that at least that much hadn’t changed.

She felt rather numb, she noticed as she closed her eyes. Quite frankly, she knew she needed to be a lot more worried than she was, and falling asleep in a clearing and completely exposed wasn’t a good idea. In fact, it was a very _bad_ idea. But she couldn’t bring herself to care as darkness surrounded her mind and she fell into a deep unconsciousness.

* * *

 

When she awoke next, the sky was pink and orange with the rising sun. She had rested long enough to restore a decent amount of chakra and her first goal was to heal the broken ribs, which were only slightly fractured to her relief, and then quickly got to her feet, prepared to finish the trek to Konoha.

She ran mostly without the use of chakra, still feeling that her reserves were rather low. As she did so, it was beginning to bother her that she wasn’t passing the landmarks she was used to and hadn’t sensed any border patrol at all. In fact, it seemed very likely that she was completely alone.

That is, until she felt a kunai whiz past her ear—obviously a warning sign rather than meant to kill, because she wasn’t moving with particular agility and any decent shinobi could have killed her with that.

Cursing, she sped up and pumped chakra into her legs to assist this goal. She didn’t have enough chakra for a fight after healing herself, even if these people didn’t necessarily seem to want to kill her. But she had to get to Konoha—especially since enemies were clearly in their borders.

“Halt!” called a masculine voice. It was definitely unfamiliar. Sakura continued forward as fast as she could.

Where was Konoha? She should have seen the walls by now! At the very least the Hokage mountain!

But the trees were too thick to see past—something that was definitely different. She jumped up onto one but the minute slowing of her speed in that moment caused her pursuers to catch up with her.

She was grabbed by her collar and a kunai was held to her throat, the assaulter holding her from behind.

“What are you doing in Uchiha lands, kunoichi?” a voice asked, this time feminine.

“Uchiha lands?” asked Sakura, bewildered. “The Uchiha clan was massacred.”

It wasn’t meant to come out like that and the moment it did and the kunai was dug deep into her throat, although not enough to kill.

“Who are you, kunoichi and what are your intentions toward the clan?” the female hissed from behind her. Apparently, mentioning the Uchiha massacre hadn’t been a good idea, intentional or not.

Sakura grit her teeth at the pain of the blade digging into the sensitive skin of her throat. “I’m just a traveler and my intentions are my own.” With that, she elbowed the kunoichi behind her in the gut, only using a minimal amount of chakra, and sent the female from behind her flying back into the quickly approaching ground.

The pinkette whirled around and was faced with a squad of three black-haired shinobi, two male and one female. They were dressed clearly as Uchiha ninja, with the trademark high-collared navy blue shirts, black pants and bandages wrapped around their shins, much as hers had been before they’d been shredded and then discarded. Their sandals were somewhat different from the usual style; their feel was much more…traditional.

When Sakura noticed the spinning tomoe of the sharingan spinning, she knew this was no hoax.

Something was definitely, clearly and most certainly _very wrong_.

She gaped at them but had the sense not to look into their eyes. “I don’t want a fight,” she stated clearly at last, knowing that three sharingan users, while she could probably take them on at full chakra with a decent chance of success, were very out of her league at the moment. She noticed, due to avoiding their eyes, that they were beaten up and had probably endured—and the third male had barely survived—a recent battle.

They said nothing, glaring at her with some uncertainty. Sakura decided to play on this; she couldn’t fight them and clearly she was somewhere she didn’t belong—although she had little intention of figuring what that was, exactly, and perhaps this was a dream but that kunai had felt _very_ real—so she decided to show an effort of goodwill.

“I am a healer,” she continued. “And I’m lost. I’m looking for my village but…” saying it didn’t seem to exist didn’t sound like a good thing to admit. “…but I can’t seem to find it. In return for information and an agreement to-” _not kill me_ “to continue towards my village in peace, I will heal all of you to the best of my capabilities.” She pointedly glanced at the third, most injured shinobi. “And I will make sure he survives.”

The two healthiest ninja glanced at each other, communicating with their eyes, and then at their injured comrade, who had chosen a very convenient time to cough up coagulated blood onto the grass. The first male, obviously the leader, looked up at her resolutely. “Deal. Now come down here and attend to him.”

Sakura did so without hesitation to show them her willingness to keep up her end of the deal. She jumped lightly to the ground and, just as the third member stumbled after another bloody cough, caught him and laid him down gently onto the ground.

“What’s your name,” she asked, certain that good bedside manner would get her points and convince the shinobi, who were clearly at an advantage in this deal, to not go back on their word.

It wouldn’t be the first time a shinobi demonstrated a lack of honor. It wasn’t exactly in the job description.

With that in mind, she decided to only take care of the life-threatening injuries and not return the Uchiha to their full capacity. She might be desperate, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Our names are classified,” the leader said sternly. Sakura glanced up at him and then nodded in understanding before assessing the man before her.

Ascertaining that her most urgent patient had a punctured lung—how he’d gotten this far was beyond her—she immediately began to heal the ruptured tissue and mend the three broken bones. Then, she ordered him to get on his hands and knees while she pushed chakra into his lungs. On her word, he coughed up the remaining blood in his lungs onto the grass. For good measure she scanned the rest of his body for injuries and healed his sprained wrist and the two broken fingers on his left hand.

“There, all better,” she said with finality. The shinobi took a deep breath and flexed his hands, then nodded to her in appreciation.

“Thank you, healer-san,” the shinobi said gratefully before standing up and walking to his partners. The female shinobi approached her second, sitting down on the grass and showing Sakura a deep cut on her forearm.

Sakura immediately went to work healing the wound, ignoring the two men talking in hushed tones several yards away from her. It was just barely wide enough to not need stitches; another few millimeters of the cut and chakra wouldn’t have been enough to heal it. Nonetheless, the fact that it was so wide made it a bit of a challenge to heal with her remaining chakra.

Just as she finished with the kunoichi’s wound, there was the loud screeching of a hawk. Sakura looked up immediately with wary eyes, but the hawk seemed harmless enough as it landed on the leading shinobi’s shoulder. As Sakura watched in interaction and saw the leader’s eyes widen minutely, glance at her, and then animal and shinobi’s eyes met in a moment of some kind of communication, she felt a tingling of suspiciousness fill her. However, she tamped it down as the hawk flew away and motioned for the leader to get healed.

“Your services are no longer needed by us,” the leader said, his voice colder than before. “However, our leader is in need of healing and you are the nearest healer to the clan. You will come with us.”

“Oh no you don’t, we had a deal,” Sakura said, instantly at her feet.

“I see no contract. You should know better than to make verbal agreements with strangers,” the leader replied. He nodded at his subordinates and they moved to grab her.

Sakura was having none of it. Pumping chakra into her hand, she slammed her fist into the ground, creating a large, rocky crater as the shinobi advanced. They jumped back out of the way and that was plenty of time to run for it.

But where, exactly, was she running _to?_

They were in hot pursuit of her and Sakura cursed that she had made the deal. It wasn’t really that she’d had any other choice, but perhaps she had gone about it the wrong way. Strengthening enemies, which they clearly were to her, and thereby weakening her already-weak self hadn’t really been a good idea after all.

The pursuit was not going in her favor. In order to change things up, she jumped created shadow clones that had equal amounts of chakra and sent them off in seven different directions. That, in the very least, would buy her time.

She had underestimated the sharingan, however, and found herself face to face with the shinobi whose life she had saved only minutes ago.

“I apologize, healer-san,” he said, sounding genuinely unhappy with the situation. “You can be assured that after you heal our leader, you will be allowed to leave.”

“I’m not going to heal your fucking-” But Sakura had made the mistake of making eye contact with the shinobi in her anger. Even though she blamed herself, it had been awhile since she had trained with a sharingan user and therefore was not really used to avoiding eyes.

The moment they made eye contact, he sent her into a genjutsu that put her to sleep near instantly.


	2. Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura meets someone she would much rather kill than heal.

When the genjutsu was dispelled, Sakura felt strangely rested and her chakra felt like it was at a decent level, but she was restrained by cuffs that had apparently been sealed to be chakra-resistant. It didn’t matter; they weren’t strength-resistant, and that was what would be breaking her out of them with the help of chakra. Escape, however, wasn’t really seeming to be an option at this point.

She was surrounded by five shinobi who, by the looks of them, were quite powerful. Take on two? Maybe. Take on five? Probably—definitely—not. She wasn’t a god. She wasn’t even ANBU.

“Healer-san,” said the same voice of the shinobi who had captured her. “Are you feeling rested? I cast the genjutsu to help your chakra rejuvenate more quickly.”

Sakura turned and glared at him, ignoring the question. “I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised, given that you all are Uchiha and you _are_ known for backstabbing tendencies, but is this really necessary? Surely you have your own healers.”

“Healer-san,” the same shinobi said again patiently, “you are a skilled healer and our leader is badly wounded. Once you heal him I assure you that you will be able to go on your way.” He wasn’t looking at her though; he was giving a placating look to his comrades who were justly offended by her less-than-friendly words. It was just as well; she hadn’t been going for flattery.

“How do I know you’ll let me go?” she demanded. “That was the deal last time and somehow, I don’t remember it going down exactly as we agreed upon.”

“Healer-san-”

“Haruno Sakura,” she snapped, tired of being called ‘healer-san.’ Irritating, really, and since she was becoming more and more certain this was a dream, perhaps induced by a coma in the fight she’d been in before this whole mess, it didn’t really matter if they knew her name.

“Haruno-san, please cooperate. With your capabilities it is sure not to take too long and-”

He was interrupted by a gruff, old woman’s voice. “Ren-san, we don’t have all day. He needs help _now._ ”

The shinobi identified as Ren continued on, more desperately. “Haruno-san, please don’t be difficult.”

“I don’t want to-”

“Do you value your life?” spat a burly, tall Uchiha with short spikey hair and bulging muscles under his shirt and pants. “If you don’t, continue this way. If our leader dies, then _you_ die.”

Sakura was silent for a moment. What choice did she really have? The Uchiha clan were obviously not a part of Konoha yet or she wouldn’t be hearing these kinds of death threats—and of course, she wouldn’t have been the only healer around to attend to whoever this leader was. Obviously, she didn’t really have a choice. It was heal the leader or die; even if she did escape, it wasn’t like there was really anywhere to run to that would offer safety. She was as good as fucked no matter what—better to go with the possible option of being freed willingly.

“I value my life,” she returned calmly, belying her inner anger at the situation. “Take me to him.”

She stood from the futon she had been lying on and was escorted out of the small room. Its only decoration was the Uchiha crest on the wall and dim light fixed onto the wall above the futon.

The old woman, the burly shinobi, Ren, and the three unnamed others led her through the building, the woman in the front, Ren and the burly shinobi on her left and right respectively, and the last three guarding her from behind.

The place was large and made traditionally, giving the place a rustic and almost ancient feel to it. The rōka were made of plain but polished cedar wood and shōji and fusuma partitioned the home instead of regular wood and glass sliding doors. The more they walked, the more it became clear that somehow, this was a different era…and perhaps not a dream. Absently Sakura raised her hands to her throat were she touched the swollen, inflamed cut from the kunai earlier. As much as she hated to admit it, this dream was way too realistic and since when did people lose consciousness in their dreams? She willed herself to wake up mentally but nothing happened, and since she was definitely making her own decisions she would be dreaming lucidly—meaning she could make herself wake up.

The weight of the thought was almost too much to bear, but it seemed like she had somehow been vaulted into some time in the past. It was uncertain how far she’d been sent back, but she was pretty certain Konoha didn’t exist yet. As they walked, she wondered what could have possibly made her end up in a time before she was born.

Then it hit her. The Return to Past jutsu, which returned things to their previous state—i.e. to the past—had been interrupted by Tobi using his time-space jutsu to ruin the effect. Their jutsu had somehow mixed; she clearly remembered the white flash of chakras clashing.

Dear Kami. This was more serious than she thought.

Sakura dropped her hands, sweaty from the stress of her realization, and wiped them on her grimy clothes. It was then she remembered that she was a mess and became self-conscious of her appearance. It wasn’t really that she cared what the Uchiha clan—who were obviously still alive in this era—thought of her, but it she personally did not like to look, quite frankly, like shit around other people. It was a dignity thing.

At the doorway of the leader’s resting place, the cuffs were removed. Soon after she was led into in a dimly lit room with a large Uchiha crest plastered on the wall opposite the bed, a chest and bureau for clothing and the entire floor consisted of tatami mats. Her back straightened nervously as she noticed a gunbai leaned against the far wall, adjacent to the bed. How many shinobi clan leaders had used gunbai as a weapon? Not many…

There was a large futon in the upper-center of the room. She could see through the shōji walls that it was midday although perhaps overcast out, so not too much time had elapsed since the leader was injured. Finally, she allowed her eyes to rest on the leader.

Her body went as stiff as a board as cold, hard realization hit her and everything began to make sense. Konoha hadn’t been founded yet; the gunbai leaning against the wall. She stopped immediately in her steps, face draining of all color as she recognized _the bastard_. He was stripped of his red armor and was shirtless, revealing a sinfully beautiful physique—not that it mattered. His chest was chiseled and sculpted like a god’s, his long black hair laying beneath him and the rest of his body, presumably clothed, was hidden under a navy blue blanket. There was a large gash in his side that marred the beauty of his body, although it was not quite deep enough to reveal bone. Despite the depth, the bastard was completely lucid and only the tightness of his face revealed that he was in any pain at all.

He had to have some serious pain tolerance to not be screaming.

“Is this the healer you mentioned, Ren-kun?” the man spoke without even looking at her, staring straight at the ceiling and showing off the aristocratic profile of his face. His nose was a perfect length for his face and straight, his hair beneath him flattened enough to reveal a strong jaw. He had full lips and his eyes were black as the night of a new moon, his sharingan not activated at the moment.

As he spoke, Sakura snapped out of her horrified reverie. “Uchiha Madara,” she spat before taking a step back and turning. “I won’t heal him.” The only thing that showed her true emotion—pure, unadulterated terror, even though she logically knew she should feel anger and hatred instead because he was injured and in no condition to kill her—was the violent trembling of her body.

The man from before who had asked if she valued her life stepped in front of her and halted her exit. “You _will_ heal him, Haruno-san. There is no choice in the matter.” His voice was harsh and angry; he apparently had no interest in her reluctance any more.

“He’s a murderer! I will not touch him! I _refuse_ to save that bastard’s life!” Her voice increased in volume and eventually she was shouting, her voice quaking in her fear. “He deserves to die! It is better for the future that he never-”

“All shinobi are murderers, Haruno-san, or did you not know that? As one yourself I should hope you would know your own profession.”

The voice was deep, purely masculine and if she were honest with herself, not wholly unattractive in a male, but the condescending, staunch arrogance quashed that thought.

“I don’t need scolding from the likes of you. You, who killed your own little brother for-”

“My aniki would never hurt me.” The voice was cold and vehement as its owner stepped forward from the corner of the room, previously hidden by shadows created by the lighting.

Sakura glanced at the other presence in the room—Uchiha Izuna—and realized that she had royally pissed off quite a few Uchiha. The old lady who had called her in was staring at her in shock and Izuna, who she only recognized because he had called Madara his older brother, was glaring at her with something akin to intense hatred. The shinobi behind her, although she could not see them having turned back in the clan head’s direction, were emanating a very dangerous vibe.

And Madara…well, he had the _gall_ to look extremely irritated, if not totally affronted by the comment. Apparently, he hadn’t succumbed to the Curse of Hatred quite yet.

She swallowed hard. She had just made an enemy out of quite possibly the entire Uchiha clan.

In her silence, Izuna spoke again. “You will heal him or you will die. You have fifteen seconds to decide. You are not the only healer in existence.”

Madara and the rest of the room were deathly quiet.

Sakura was about to answer with a ‘kill me if you can’ when a sudden thought assaulted her.

“Have you heard of a place called Konoha?” she demanded hurriedly. The weight of her decision, of her life, of her future, relied on this very question. Healing Madara might actually be the _right_ thing to do if she wanted her home to be in existence when she returned to her time—which she most certainly would find a way to do. Madara dying before Konoha was founded would destroy the future as she knew it.

Izuna raised a skeptical brow before glancing at Ren. “Is she mad?” He was obviously referring to being crazy, not angered—because she was certainly angered by her situation. It wasn’t even a question worth asking.

Sakura shook her head even though the question hadn’t been aimed at her. “I will heal him.”

“Very well. Iruno-san, Ren-san, stay. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Madara still said nothing, simply staring at the ceiling, and Sakura rushed over to him as much as it killed her to heal the enemy. He _couldn’t_ die, not before Konoha was founded. After that…well, she’d have no problem killing him in his sleep.

But then how much of the future would that change?

As she placed her hands on his warm chest, she could only decide on one thing.

After Konoha was founded, Madara’s death would only create a better future, and since she was the only person who knew that for certain, she would have to see to it.


	3. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some very not-good things happen, and Sakura learns that dealing with the Uchiha clan is always a bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating is not going as planned. Sorry! I'll try to keep up better. :)

He could feel her small hands trembling as she began her preliminary exam. She had told him not to fight her chakra when it entered his system and although he already knew not to do that from previous experience with medic-nins, he did not correct her.

Her chakra was cool and soothing to his inflamed wound and strangely did not hurt as she mended his flesh. She instructed Aya, the woman who had been his nanny after his mother had died, to fetch her stitches and antiseptic. When no one in the room knew what antiseptic was, she asked for an herb that she said would perform the same task. Aya went to fetch it and then she returned to her work.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, not wanting to disrupt her work with his scrutiny. She was strangely, exotically beautiful, with short pink hair and stunning verdant green eyes that were narrowed in firm concentration as she worked. Her skin was pale despite the dried blood that caked it; she was a kunoichi, as he’d assumed, although he found it strange that a medic-nin would be involved in battle. The Uchiha clan was not particularly known for its proficiency in healing, usually sending for healers unaffiliated with any enemy outside the clan. His people didn’t have the time to train a ninja who had little use in the field.

But most of all, she intrigued him. She spoke with great certainty of events that had never happened, of places that didn’t exist, of medical remedies that were unheard of. She seemed to know him, although they had never met, and for some reason bore a great hatred for him. He supposed she might have heard of him, for he did happen to be a well-known adversary to many clans, but when he’d been informed of her arrival she had not claimed to be from any of the established clans—the name Haruno did not ring a bell for any of the clans he knew of. Perhaps they were a family of healers. With her skill—he could tell from the lack of pain he felt as she healed the last of the wound—she had to come from a long line of medical professionals. She had perfect chakra control, unlike any he’d ever seen, and exuded all the confidence of someone who was important and knew her place in the world, even though no one seemed to have ever heard of her. Certainly, with her prowess, the Uchiha would have sought her out long ago. It would be difficult to avoid a fame with her abilities.

Yes, she was an enigma; one he planned to find out much more about.

Finally, after what had been probably an hour or two, she stood, sweat beaded on her forehead—which he noticed was somewhat large, although not unattractively so—and turned to Ren.

“He is healed and I have upheld my end of the deal. I would appreciate it if you would release me now. I would like to be on my way.” Her tone was firm and demanding, again speaking of the importance she seemed to believe she had.

And she did, now that he’d decided she would become the official Uchiha clan healer and _only_ the Uchiha clan healer. He couldn’t risk any enemy coming across her and employing her.

She would stay in the compound; she couldn’t be allowed to leave.

He glanced at Ren and shook his head to convey that she would not be released as he had probably promised. The younger Uchiha should have known better than to make decisions that he was not in authority to commit to.

Ren stiffened uncomfortably between the two different commands. However, Madara was his clan leader; he had no choice but to obey him.

The man decided upon buying time. “Surely you are hungry. At least allow us to feed you in our gratitude.”

She shook her head. “I need to be on my way.”

Ren glanced back at Madara, his eyes helpless. Apparently, the spineless fool didn’t know how to stand up to her. Madara shook his head again and then stilled when Sakura turned back to him.

“Ren-san told me I would be able to leave once I fulfilled my duty in healing you,” she said scathingly, showing him nothing of the respect he deserved.

He propped himself up on his elbows, glad that he didn’t feel any pain from the gesture, and said coolly, “You will eat and then we shall discuss your departure.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but her stomach decided at that moment to make its emptiness known with a small but noticeable grumble. A pink tint filled her cheeks and she turned back to Ren.

“Fine. But I _am_ leaving after lunch.”

“We will discuss your departure after you eat,” Madara repeated, showing the same obstinacy she seemed to display regularly.

Sakura huffed, but he had made his tone final and she obviously perceived that arguing at that moment was fruitless. In all honesty, arguing at any point in time was fruitless. She would stay in the clan’s territory for as long as he deemed necessary.

“Fine. Show me the way.”

Ren seemed to sag with relief and he motioned for her to follow him. Madara motioned for Izuna and Iruno to stay, dismissing Aya to go with Ren and Sakura.

“What is it, aniki?” Izuna asked after the trio was well out of earshot.

“Haruno-san is an invaluable healer. She will stay in the Uchiha compound and we will employ her for her services.” His tone brooked no room for dissent.

Izuna’s countenance hardened. “Do you truly believe she will stay? She does not seem to hold you in high regard.” It was obvious that his otouto didn’t find her staying in the compound an idea he agreed with.

“Perhaps not,” Madara admitted. “But I will not allow her to leave. She cannot be permitted to be of assistance to any other clan, enemy or not.”

“Madara-sama, with all due respect, Haruno-san is very stubborn from my observations. She will be difficult to contain if she escapes the compound.” Iruno’s voice was as uncertain as it was respectful.

“She will be sealed with the Sworn Loyalty seal. Should she break her vow to serve the Uchiha clan and _only_ the Uchiha clan, she will die. That includes her disobeying my orders and leaving.” He would make his will clear and there would be no disagreement.

Iruno’s eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded anyway. “When shall I deliver the news?”

“I will speak to her personally. After all, I am the only person who can perform the seal.” Madara chuckled darkly. “She doesn’t have a choice in the matter. I cannot allow her skills to be shared with any other clan.”

Izuna spoke up, sounding uncomfortable. “That seal is ancient and many have said that it should be forbidden. It’s permanent. Are you certain about this?”

“Absolutely.” Madara’s tone was firm.

“Very well, aniki,” Izuna said at last, sighing. “I will go monitor her until you are ready to seal her. Are you going to tell her about it?”

“Not until the seal is performed,” Madara replied.

“Alright.”

“Dismissed,” he said and his subordinate and brother left, Aya lingering for a moment as if uncertain that her surrogate son would be alright. He nodded at her and motioned for her to leave, which she did reluctantly. After the shōji door closed, Madara stood and flexed his now-healed muscles. They were almost in perfect condition with little to no sign that he had been injured. Other than the stitches making sure the wound stayed sealed and the light pink scar that would heal in time, he was fully rejuvenated and at full health.

He walked over to his bureau and pulled out a black high-collared shirt with the Uchiha crest on the left shoulder. Slipping on his house slippers over a pair of clean tabi, he was prepared to perform the seal. It was, in all honesty, a simple seal. He would bind her to him, the head of the clan, by mixing their blood and then performing the sealing jutsu to bond them. In a way, he would be as bound to her as she was to him, but pain and possibility of death upon defiance or betrayal would not befall him.

Madara felt strange satisfaction at his plan. With their bonding, he would be able to find out more about her and solve the mystery that was Haruno Sakura.

* * *

 The meal had been simple but delicious with barbequed unagi with sauce over steamed rice. Sitting back from her empty bowl, Sakura stretched her muscles in preparation for her journey. She wasn’t quite sure where she would head next, but her goal was rather simple; to find a way to reverse the time-travel back to her own time—whether or not she killed Madara in the process. If she really thought about it, altering the course of history was a bit of a frightening endeavor. What if she changed things in a way that she didn’t want? What if the future was changed for the worse? It was a gamble she wasn’t willing to make without further contemplation.

Just as she was standing, she saw Madara approach her. An immediate glare took over her features and she said coldly, “What do you want?”

“To discuss the conditions of your departure.” His tone was simple and cool, not expressing any malicious intent. She relaxed minutely; at least this previous Madara didn’t seem as evil as the one she knew in her time. He’d definitely not fallen to the Curse of Hatred…yet.

“I didn’t realize there were conditions,” she responded in kind.

“Have a seat,” was all he replied with, sitting down himself across from her at the table.

Reluctantly she sat back down and engaged him in a staring contest; a battle of wills. He stared at her unblinkingly with black eyes that displayed no emotion whatsoever and thankfully the sharingan was not activated. The moment his eyes bled red she would avert her gaze, but at the moment, this was a test of dominance and she couldn’t afford to show weakness.

He spoke, not breaking the staring contest. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable with his scrutinizing gaze.

“You are a strange kunoichi,” he said at last. “I would like to employ you as the Uchiha clan’s official healer.”

Sakura’s glare strengthened and she will herself not to blink. “No.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice, kunoichi,” he said. “We are willing to employ you and allow you to live comfortably within the clan’s confines. You will be safe here and all I ask is that you heal my people.”

It was growing harder not to look away. His eyes were so…intense. “I’m a competent shinobi and can take care of myself. I have business to attend to that does not include aiding you or your clan—or did I not make that apparent already?”

In a flash his sharingan activated and she lost the battle of wills immediately, turning her eyes away hastily. “So you are aware of my clan’s kekkei genkai,” he murmured to himself. “What a strange kunoichi indeed…”

She stared at his chin haughtily. “I know your clan better than you will ever know, and in saying this, I will assure you that I will never sell you my services.”

“I apparently did not make it clear that you do not have a choice,” he responded with the same haughtiness.

Sakura stood immediately and turned to leave. “I apparently did not make it clear that you can’t force me to do anything.” In the next step she took, Madara had appeared in front of her and she made the stupid, _foolish_ mistake to look into his eyes, astonished at his speed after such a dire wound.

She was instantly immobilized, standing there only able to move her eyes. She couldn’t even scream; her vocal chords were frozen.

“As I said, kunoichi, you do not have a choice.” Suddenly a kunai was in his hand.

Her eyes widened when he took her right wrist and bared her palm. Mind screaming to fight back but her body unable to do so, unable to even speak the word “Kai!”, she had to watch in horror as he cut open her palm in a long, clean gash. The pain seared through her, amplified by her immobility and inability to do anything, and watched in terrified fascination as he did the same to his own right hand. He clasped their hands together, smearing their blood and letting it mingle.

He spoke again, this time his tone informative. “The jutsu I am about to perform is a sealing jutsu that will bind you to me. Should you go against my will or betray me, you will die at my command.”

Her eyes were impossibly wide and inside she was screaming, demanding her muscles to fight back, but there was nothing to be done. After a few moments, when their blood had become one and the same, he used his left hand to perform the seal. She too horrified to appreciate the ability to only use one hand for a jutsu; it didn’t look too complicated and that was even scarier.

Suddenly, their hands glowed with chakra, his dark red and hers pale green. Against her will she felt her chakra surging to meet his and together they melded together and turned a misty black-grey.

The cut on her palm sealed itself and his did the same, but on her palm a black imprint of the Uchiha clan’s crest had been burnt into her skin. He let go of her hand, which stayed in the same position due to her ongoing immobility.

“You are bound to me now.” And with that, he released the genjutsu.

Immediately, she flew at him with a chakra-filled fist. “You bastard!” she bellowed. He dodged to the side and she brought her legs up in a twirling kick, which he caught and then slammed her to the ground.

He was _too fast!_

She leapt to her feet and charged him again, managing to deliver a blow with her fist that sent him through the shōji door and the fusuma behind it. However, he stood up and moved his arm without a wince, but only slightly; she had dislocated his shoulder.

Madara was not fazed. “Perhaps this is a good time to demonstrate the bond. You will heal me.”

“Like hell!” she shouted back, but suddenly her body was filled with an overwhelming pain. She screamed and fell to her knees, the imprint on her hand emanating pain unlike anything she had ever felt. It was like thousands of kunai were stabbing her body, rendering her unable to move.

He approached her slowly, allowing her to endure the pain longer than necessary. Weakly she looked up at him and glared through the pained expression on her face, but he showed no emotion at her suffering.

“The more you fight it, the more intense the pain will become,” he informed her. It was true; the hurting was becoming more and more potent; she was trembling from the heavy weight of the pain.

He knelt before her. “Become willing and heal me and the pain will cease. I control whether you die or not and I can leave you here to suffer for as long as I wish.”

She tried to endure, she really did, but tears were starting to flow from her eyes uncontrollably, a byproduct of her agony.

Finally, knowing that she couldn’t endure any longer, she grit out, “I’ll heal you.”

Immediately the pain lessened and she was able to move again. She gripped his shoulder tightly, making him wince minutely, and forced her chakra into the injury to numb the pain. Unfortunately, for dislocated shoulders, she had to manually put it back into place, which was extremely painful. The moment she’d numbed his shoulder she wished she hadn’t to make him endure the pain. However, she hadn’t thought about it—she’d gone straight into medic mode and her first action with a dislocated shoulder was to numb the pain. It was Tsunade’s creed to make the patient feel as little of it as possible during healing and it had been imbedded into her psyche.

Struggling to stand, although the pain was fading since she’d begun to heal him, she led him to the seat she’d been sitting on. He laid down and it was almost strange to see such a powerful man so vulnerable. Sakura shook the thought from her mind and harshly guided his shoulder back into place. It angered her that he didn’t so much as wince at the relocating, a testament to her numbing and his inherent pain tolerance. Once the shoulder was back in place and he rolled it experimentally, she took several large steps back to put some space between them.

“Very good,” he said after his shoulder was back to normal. “I will send for someone to find you a room to stay in and you will be supplied with clothing and a bath. After that you will go to the healing sector of the compound and begin on the other wounded of my clan.”

Sakura frowned but knew she couldn’t say anything in dissent. Madara stood and motioned for her to sit and then he left to send the orders.

Suddenly, his words registered in her mind. A _room_ for her to stay in? Her eyes widened in horror.

She was going to be living in Uchiha Madara’s home.

 


	4. Evasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura is late to dinner.

A week passed and Sakura hadn’t seen Madara once. That was perfectly fine by her; she never wanted to see the bastard’s face again.

She’d tried removing the seal a few times, but all of them had failed and she’d received a warning stab of pain for her efforts. However, the seal _had_ to go; there was no option.

Sakura couldn’t imagine the repercussions of practically being Madara’s _slave_ once she returned to her own time. The thought was unbearable. Would she be forced to capture and aid with Naruto’s death for his plans? Would she be forced to betray her village?

The answer was yes, she would. He could make her suffer as long as he wanted; he himself had said that he didn’t necessarily have to choose for her to instantaneously die.

But she could kill herself if it came down to it, couldn’t she? She would much rather die than be Konoha’s downfall, than betray her best friend and her village.

And yet…couldn’t he will for her to _not_ kill herself and have the same immobilizing effect?

All in all, she was in a great deal of distress.

The Uchiha she healed had the trademark Uchiha attitude; I’m better than you and you are of no importance to me. For a few of the more testy patients she’d shown them just how much respect she deserved; bullying already-wounded patients who couldn’t hurt a fly wasn’t beneath her if it would get them to understand that she wasn’t to be trifled with. A chakra-less punch to the gut—as long as they weren’t injured there—or a light chakra-filled kick to the groin to send them flying into a wall did help a great deal. The threat of castration and/or forced sterility, of course, did wonders to make her extra-obstinate patients and they were cowed like children by the time they were returned to the operating table. It was a miracle she wasn’t reported to Madara for unsightly behavior in a healer.

She hoped that in time, at least until she found a way to remove the seal and go back to her era, they would begin to treat her with respect without having to be beaten up just a little before the healing began. It would, in the very least, make life less difficult.

Sakura despised having to wear the Uchiha crest on her clothing, whether or not it was the only clothing available. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Madara was simply making her wear it to make the point that she was stuck in the Uchiha compound. She’d tried going outside the gates and somehow, Madara knew well enough to make her double over in pain until someone—begrudgingly—helped her back inside the confines of the walls. It was infuriating, it was unfair, and most of all, it was humiliating. Apparently the Uchiha were familiar with the seal because it was clear they looked down upon her for having it.

In short, Haruno Sakura had never been more miserable in her life.

It was a bitterly cold evening when Sakura left the healing sector of the compound and headed back to the main house, where she’d been given a home near the servant quarters. She shouldn’t have been surprised but somehow she’d thought since she’d been bonded to him he would treat her with a modicum of respect.

No, that was not the case; she was nothing more than a servant to him—or more accurately, a slave.

Akane, one of the servants she’d somewhat managed to befriend and who didn’t seem to look down on her for the seal, was waiting at her door when she trudged inside, carrying a three-layer kimono.

“Konbanwa, Sakura-san. Madara-sama has requested that you eat dinner with him tonight—he sent you this to wear.”

She stiffened, then forced herself to relax and raise a skeptical eyebrow. “Well this is unexpected.”

Akane smiled. “I know how you feel about him, but you should be honored. Usually Madara-sama only dines with his brother.”

Wonderful. She _had_ seen Izuna a few times since her sealing and he had definitely not been too friendly—as she would expect since he hadn’t yet been killed by his brother and therefore would be appalled that she would accuse Madara of such a thing. Still, Izuna’s presence combined with the bastard’s, as she had taken to calling him in her mind, did not make dinner feel so appetizing anymore.

“There doesn’t happen to be a chance I can avoid this?” She hated to admit that her tone was rather—okay, _very_ —desperate.

Akane’s smile turned sad. “I’m sorry, Sakura-san.”

Sakura decided to be the bigger person and reluctantly accepted the kimono and its layers before entering her room. To her surprise, a hot bath with oils had already been prepared and, folding the kimono over her futon, she was grateful to slip into the decadent water.

She bathed slowly, trying to postpone the dinner as much as possible, but eventually the water cooled and she was forced to move forward with her preparations.

The kimono was beautiful; it was a navy blue with the inevitable Uchiha crest on the back of the collar, but also had orange and red-and-white koi stitched into the silk fabric as well beautiful pale pink water lotuses with deep green lotus pads to accompany them. Adjusting the layers beneath to serve more for comfort than beauty—she wasn’t exactly trying to impress anyone—she slid on the outer layer and then tied the shimmery silver obi into a neat bow. She combed her hair into an acceptable style and deemed herself prepared.

Donning her house slippers, she exited her room and then realized she had no idea where the bastard ate dinner. Loathe as she was to have to ask a servant, she found she had little choice in the matter.

Akane was nowhere in sight, obviously having gone off to complete her chores for the day. Sakura paused for a moment, contemplating how much trouble she would in if she missed dinner with the excuse that she couldn’t find its location. Of course, then there was the fact that she probably wouldn’t be given any dinner at all, as it was past the time for the servant quarter to eat. Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue but with the early bath and putting on a kimono, no matter how simple it was, had taken up much more time than her usual routine.

It was certainly a difficult decision; endure an entire meal with the bastard and his brother or go hungry? Going hungry sounded like a much better option. She walked back into her room and began to shed her kimono.

Suddenly, her seal activated and she felt the pain of thousands of kunai piercing her skin. Letting out a pained cry, she fell to her knees, the outer layer of the kimono only partly undone with the obi discarded on the floor.

Tears gathered in her eyes and she whimpered as she attempted to retrieve the obi to put it back on. The moment her shaky fingers grasped it, the pain receded enough for her to stand, fix the kimono, and retie the obi. As she staggered out of her room, the pain lessened greatly and she was able to stand tall again.

How had he known she wasn’t going to dinner? He hadn’t been around to give a command and there was no way he could have known that she wasn’t on her way. And now that she really thought about it, how had he known she was leaving the compound? A tingle of fear shivered down her spine.

Just what did being bonded to him entail? There was obviously something he’d conveniently left out.

She felt more confident now that she had a question for him and it helped settle her frazzled nerves. Walking quickly towards the kitchen, she hailed down Mori and asked him where she would meet Madara for dinner.

After giving her curt directions, the cold man turned away and continued sweeping the stray grains of rice from the kitchen floor. Taking a deep breath, Sakura followed Mori’s instructions and soon was in the same room she had first eaten in.

The room was rather bare, as were all the other rooms. It seemed the Uchiha weren’t much for decoration. The table was in the center of the room and a hanging lamp from the ceiling lit the room. There was a doorway opposite to where she stood that to the separate kitchen only used for Madara and Izuna, a navy blue flap hanging from the doorway to serve as a door. To her left was a hallway that presumably led to the head family’s rooms and to her right was another hanging flap and doorway to a room she wasn’t familiar with.

Madara was seated at the proverbial head of the completely square table and Izuna to his right. Sakura hesitated, seeing them already eating, wondering what would be proper etiquette for entering, or in other words, what wouldn’t get her in trouble.

“Come in, Sakura. You’re late.” Madara didn’t even look up from his food. Sakura ignored that he was using her first name without an honorific; it wasn’t a battle worth fighting.

On the other hand, she had expected a flurry of emotion to come at seeing the man who’d turned her into his slave again like hatred, anger, loathing—but she hadn’t expected the near-paralyzing fear. Almost timidly she made her way to the seat to his left and sat down, noticing a simple yet elegant meal of yakisoba and steamed rice.

With a mumbled ‘Itadakimasu’ she began to eat.

The meal was mostly silent, with Izuna making a comment to Madara every so often, but by the end of it, Sakura was very curious as to why she’d been told to come at all. Her question was answered when a servant cleared the table and Izuna left while Madara motioned for her to stay.

Her insides were quivering with a fear she didn’t think was rational.

“You have been following your orders well,” he commented conversationally. Sakura nodded, noting that apparently no one had reported her terrible bedside manner. She kept her eyes glued to the table; she wasn’t going to give him a chance to put her in another genjutsu. The last time he had had been a life-changing event.

There was a pregnant pause and Sakura decided to approach the subject she had wondered about after the punishment for almost missing dinner. When she spoke, anger leaked into her voice and she was glad she didn’t sound as timid as she internally felt. “What exactly does this ‘bond’ entail?” Her voice was demanding.

Madara raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she said coldly. “You know what I mean. Why did it activate when I returned to my room? How did you know?”

The smirk on his face was infuriating. “Perhaps you’ll find your answer in the library. I’ll have someone tell Senbei you’re allowed access.”

She glared at him. “Why can’t you just tell me? This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

His eyes lit up teasingly. “Oh, but I do love a challenge.” It was clear he was playing with her in a strange, sadistic way.

“Fine,” she all but spat. “May I be excused?”

“Not yet. I have questions for you that you _will_ answer truthfully.”

Frowning, she remained in her seat.

“I have had Senbei research the Haruno clan and there is none to be known in existence. Why is this?”

“I’m not from a clan,” she said carefully. “I’m from a long line of merchants.” Close enough. She realized that these were going to be personal questions and she would have to tread carefully—if such a power-hungry and evil man were to find out she was from the future, the consequences could quite possibly be very dire.

“Merchants, hm? And how did you learn to heal so proficiently?”

“…My mentor.”

“And who is he?”

“She. A woman named Tsunade.” She kept her answers vague.

He frowned, noticing the same thing. “Where is she from?”

“A village in this area.” Also a half-truth. He’d ordered her to answer truthfully, so as long as she didn’t lie, surely the seal wouldn’t activate?

He looked at her disapprovingly but changed the direction of the questions. “Where are you from?”

“Also a village in this area.”

“And that would be?” He was growing impatient with her, if the tone of his voice told her anything.

Sakura thanked her lucky stars that Konoha hadn’t been the village she was officially born in. Her civilian parents, who had indeed been merchants, had come from a small town outside Konoha named Nanade.

“Nanade.”

He frowned more deeply and Sakura assumed Nanade hadn’t been built yet or in the very least he hadn’t heard of it. Fortunately, he did not continue down that path of questioning.

“And where in this Tsunade now?”

She hesitated, then framed the name of her village differently than it was usually called to avoid messing up the future any more than she already had. “A place called Village Hidden in the Leaves.”

His brow furrowed but he said nothing in response. “Why did you believe that I had killed Izuna?” This time, his words were harsh.

“I…heard about it somewhere.”

“You’re being quite vague,” he commented disapprovingly, calling her out on her reluctance to answer his questions. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Sakura frowned at him.

“Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Very well,” he acquiesced, and Sakura was surprised when he waved her away. “I will see you tomorrow at dinner. We start just after sundown.”

“Wait—what?” She gaped at him.

“Until I receive that answers I want—with ample detail—then you will dine with me.”

She was horrified. She couldn’t give him the answers he wanted—ever. That meant that until she found a way back to her own time, she would be having dinner with him and Izuna.

Sakura stood and left without bowing, fighting the urge to kill him right then and there.

She didn’t see him smirk behind her, appreciating his own little joke.


	5. Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara takes something from Sakura she never expected him to. Sakura is decidedly disgusted.

It had been two weeks since he’d ordered Sakura to dine with him and Izuna. Eventually the tense atmosphere between his brother and her had relaxed and they occasionally chatted about mundane things. Madara suspected that Izuna had approached Sakura on his own after finding out that she would be dining with them for a while and had wanted to clear the air between them. Izuna was something of a pacifist like that; he’d never really been one for conflict outside of missions and sparring.

Madara had noted that Sakura rarely, if ever, paid attention to him. This inattentiveness was not reciprocated. The more he observed her, the more she intrigued him. He still hadn’t received his answers, which he found didn’t bother him as much now that she was forced to spend time with him every evening.

He had begun to notice the way her hips swayed when she walked, the way her lithe form was so clearly curvy yet also petite even beneath the most modest of clothes, how she just looked so good with the Uchiha crest on her shoulder. No, she wasn’t the most voluptuous or feminine woman he’d ever spent the night with, but the more he saw of her the more he wanted to know if her thighs were as creamy and soft as the rest of her exposed skin, if all her hair was pink or if it was just on her head, what she sounded like when she was screaming in…something _other_ than anger.

These things plagued his thoughts and it was growing increasingly difficult treat her as any other servant. It was clear to him that he desired her, even though she was nine years younger than him. Age had never much mattered to him in all honesty and Sakura was more than enough a woman for him to accept her as a bed partner without qualm.

It was that night after dinner that she approached him about the bonding. It surprised him that she had taken so long to research the topic, but being the official healer of the Uchiha clan certainly kept her busy.

“You can feel my intentions telepathically,” she said flatly after he waved Izuna away. She had stayed, indicating that she wished to speak with him, although she didn’t seem particularly thrilled about it.

“Very good.” He wasn’t particularly proud of her or anything, but it was nice that she could figure it out on her own. He enjoyed those who were self-sufficient and didn’t rely on others.

“And the seal is removed if you are killed,” she continued lightly, not even bothering to hide the fact that she was pleased to know this tidbit.

He raised an eyebrow and smirking tauntingly. “Are you considering murder, Sakura?”

“No,” she responded curtly. “You’ll sense my intention and either stop or kill me. That doesn’t mean I can’t pray for it to happen soon.”

He chuckled. She was so serious about her hatred of him and seeing the pouty look on her face as she told him that she hoped he would die was adorable.

She frowned. “Something funny?”

“Not at all.” He said nothing else and stood, turning to leave, and Sakura did the same.

She was apparently going in a different direction than she usually did—perhaps to the kitchen, he’d noticed her friend Akane had gone there—because she passed in front of him as she left, not caring at all that she had gotten in his way. Frowning at the disrespect, he gripped her arm and pulled her back.

“You got a problem?” she demanded, trying to loosen his grip from her shoulder.

As Madara involuntarily inhaled her sweet, floral scent, he realized he did have a problem indeed. In that moment he ached for her, and when her lips pursed at his silence, he felt the inexplicable need to find out if the taste of her mouth was as sweet as her scent.

He looked down at her and tightened his grip on her bicep, eyes blazing with desire. She hesitated, suddenly uncertain and her eyes narrowing in an attempt to dissuade the look on his face. Her lips parted slightly as she tried to pull away from him with a little more force.

Using his highly-praised speed and wrenching her by her arm to face him, he pressed his lips harshly to hers. Gripping the back of her neck to stop her from pulling away, he ran his tongue over the seam of her lips. She cried out angrily and he thrust his tongue into her mouth, reveling in the heat of her cavern.

Yes, she tasted just as sweet as she smelled.

He tangled his tongue with hers, inhaling her scent deeply. He felt blood rush through his veins to his groin, intensifying the ache and making him kiss her more fervently.

She began to shove at him frantically and he at last released her. Sakura stumbled back, her lips red and swollen from the bruising kiss and her face flushed. It was one of the most beautiful visions of a woman he had ever seen.

Satisfied, he left without another word, feeling her murderous intent through the bond.

* * *

 Sakura spent the next hour—her bath time—scrubbing at her face and swishing out her mouth repeatedly to erase all trace of the bastard from her lips and mouth. Seeing Akane for friendly chat had been forgotten. She was angry—of course she was angry, that had been her first kiss that he’d just stolen!—but she was also a good deal frightened and confused. She’d noticed the way he would look at her from time to time; he wasn’t particularly trying to hide his scrutiny. It had bothered her at first but she’d written it off as curiosity since she’d still not told about her true origin—and she never would.

She’d been keeping a close eye on the calendar in her office where she healed her patients, waiting for the day that the First Hokage would propose an alliance. It didn’t seem like it was coming anytime soon and that sincerely bothered her. The sooner Konoha formed, the sooner Madara would grow restless and challenge Hashirama to the battle at the Valley of the End. Although she was afraid of messing up the timeline to her future, she had to ensure that Madara actually died in that battle, for she surely couldn’t return to her present still enslaved to him. She would be a danger to her home and friends—and to herself. The self-loathing she would feel at being forced to betray them would be incomparable. If she had felt pain upon Sasuke’s betrayal, then she didn’t have any intention of finding out what it felt like to be the betrayer. She wouldn’t do what Sasuke had done to Naruto.

Still, it was months away until Konoha was even formed. She would have to endure until then—and hopefully prevent him from growing an even further attraction to her.

It wasn’t beneath her notice that he could force her to sleep with him if he desired her to, and while she doubted it would get that far, she couldn’t take any chances.

She wasn’t going to lose her virginity to a madman.

So, as Sakura fell asleep that night, she swore to herself that she would find out what Madara least liked in women—she could ask Izuna. After he had confronted her about her comments the day after he found out she would be dining with them regularly, Sakura had apologized profusely and promised him it was apparently just a rumor she’d heard in her travels. The air had cleared after that and soon, Izuna’s jovial and friendly personality began to come up more and more, and the day they had sparred a week and a half ago had brought their friendship to a new level. He’d been impressed at her skill—at which Sakura had inwardly preened, that an Uchiha would admire her fighting prowess!—and afterwards they had grown rather close for the time that they actually spent together to where she felt comfortable going to him for advice on how to deter Madara.

She would do whatever it took to stop any attraction that bastard might be growing towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're entering darker territory now. It's not going to get any better from here, folks.


	6. Repel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura works hard to deter Madara's interest and it seems to be working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little lighter than most, but things are definitely about to take a dark turn. I hope you enjoy!

Izuna had proven to be most helpful.

He had seen Madara’s growing interest as well and he knew his brother the best out of anyone, therefore making him the best person to go to for aid. He had informed her that if Madara felt strongly enough he wouldn’t hesitate to seduce her, and while she could let him know in no uncertain terms that it would be rape no matter what, Izuna had told her that Madara would still probably not view it in that light. Given the fact that Sakura wanted nothing to do with him and Izuna understood and did not atone rape, he had armed her with a whole arsenal of behaviors that would surely nip this unsightly attraction in the bud.

First and foremost, Izuna said to be respectful and to treat him like the great leader he was, regardless of whether that was her opinion of him. Madara did not enjoy disrespect and, more importantly, conflict seemed to arouse him. She remembered how Izuna had blushed lightly upon telling her, making him seem rather cute in a boyish way, although he was three years older than her. Anyway, arousing Madara was _not_ on her list of ‘things to do’ and she promised herself she would be as submissive and respectful as she could even if it sickened her to do so. She had priorities.

Second of all, Sakura used some of her pay—she wasn’t paid as well as Madara had implied she would be, but she _was_ given some spending money—to order clothing from the nearest merchant village. She made it modest and baggy, at least a few sizes too large for her. She also made it very clear in the order that she did not want the Uchiha crest anywhere at all on the clothing. Whether the request seemed strange or not she didn’t care—again, priorities.

She’d also cut her hair even shorter; Madara liked women with long, lustrous hair. It was now just halfway past her chin instead of just above her shoulders and she made sure to keep a stock of money to ensure that it stayed that length. She could always grow it back out when she returned to the present.

Finally, she stopped bathing in the floral scents she’d been supplied with in her bathroom. Izuna had told her that Madara loved a good-smelling woman and therefore, Sakura cut down to a bath every two days so that she wasn’t completely dirty but didn’t have such a tempting smell.

Three days after her preparations—Madara hadn’t made a move on her since the kiss, which she attributed to being compliant and submissive—her clothing arrived and she was ready to commence Operation: Repel the Bastard. Now, a week later and Madara still hadn’t shown any particular growth in interest, Sakura was starting to feel comfortable again—as comfortable as she could be in her position, anyway.

She was growing a rapport with her patients by then; after she’d bullied the disrespectful ones into their place and shown them how nice she could be if they simply treated her well—the fact that she would make their healing less painful if they were good-natured would go unsaid—she found that being the official Uchiha doctor wasn’t so bad. Of course, it would never be a good thing given how she’d received the position, but it didn’t have to be miserable in her opinion. Unfortunately, the women always seemed more wary of her than the men, who spent more time out fighting and required her abilities more often than the females.

It was one such woman who was giving her quite the hard time and since she wasn’t a patient, Sakura couldn’t do anything to ‘reprimand’ her. It was the infamous Uchiha Hanata, the clan busybody and surrogate matriarch since Madara was not married. She was as feared as she was liked; the women flocked to her in attempts to stay in her good graces—and of course, to get the clan’s best gossip from a reliable source.

She was a woman in her forties and had four children, the youngest being the patient and if the boy didn’t receive special treatment for being the baby of the family, Sakura would imagine that no one did.

“Sota has a fever and he’s been vomiting everything up for the past three days,” Hanata snapped at Sakura, who was examining the boy laying in one of the cots. “He hasn’t eaten since he got sick and it’s been hard enough for him to keep fluids down.” Hanata’s voice was growing shrill with worry and Sakura felt it was her duty to assuage the mother’s fears.

Sota was certainly in bad shape; he was pale and sickly looking, and his skin was hot as a furnace. Sakura was almost positive from his symptoms that it was a simple stomach bug. To her chagrin, since the boy was surely contagious, she could expect to see many more angry mothers in the meantime.

“Uchiha-sama,” she said politely, “Sota will be fine in a few days. He has a stomach virus. I’m going to send you home with a few herbal remedies that will lower his fever and help with the nausea. The licorice root should be steeped in hot water for five minutes and then he can drink it. After the tea settles his stomach, make sure he stays hydrated and if he can manage broth, give him some, but no more than a cup or so at first. Bring him back to me in two days so I can check up on him.”

Hanata was not pleased that her son couldn’t be cured immediately. “What kind of doctor can’t heal their patients properly?” she demanded. “Heavens knows why Madara-sama hired you in the first place.”

Sakura bristled at the comment about her ‘hiring.’ Apparently Hanata hadn’t noticed the seal just yet, which was surprising since she was certain it would have reached the village busybody by then. “Please follow the directions I’ve given you,” she said as calmly as she could manage and reaching for the bundle of herbs, handed them to her.

Hanata smacked the herbs from her hand and if they hadn’t been bound they would have scattered on the floor, creating quite the mess to clean up. “Heal him now! If you’re such a highly-acclaimed doctor, then show your worth!”

Sakura had had just about enough of the cranky old woman. Swiftly, she stood, looking Hanata directly in the eye. “I have done all I can. If you choose to refuse treatment, Sota will suffer longer for it. A _good_ mother would do anything in her power to make her sick child as comfortable as possible during his illness. _Now pick up the damn herbs and get out of my office._ ”

Instead of being thoroughly affronted and flinging more insults at the pinkette, the woman glanced down at her child, who was shifting uncomfortably in his cot. Her eyes softened for a moment and then she glared back up at Sakura, her eyes challenging.

“I’ll show you a good mother,” she said coldly before bending over to pick up the herbs. Confrontation over, Sakura stirred the dozing Sota and ushered him to walk home with his mother. “And Haruno-san?” she called as she led her son by the hand out of the office, “You’d better be right. If anything happens to my baby I swear upon my life I’ll have you killed in the most painful of ways.”

“Have a nice day too, Uchiha-sama,” Sakura called back, waving with a cheeky smile.

As it would have it, Hanata did not see the need to bring Sota back at all with his quick recovery, and strangely enough, shortly after there seemed to be rumors of ‘doctor-sama’ being a miracle worker.

* * *

 It was at her lunch break that Izuna approached her.

“My aniki has invited Uchiha Yoshina to share his bed tonight,” he said by way of greeting as he leaned on Sakura’s desk, upon which she ate.

Sakura’s eyes lit up and her smile swelled with relief. “Wonderful! I guess you were right about his preferences. Now I can go back to bathing every day.”

Izuna wrinkled his nose. “You’ve been skipping baths for this? Kami, Sakura-chan, I know you don’t like him but isn’t that a little…extreme?”

“Not in the slightest, Izuna-kun,” she replied saccharinely. “You didn’t even notice anyway, so it can’t be that bad.” She turned her nose up at him playfully.

He pouted. It always amazed her how expressive Izuna was compared to his clansmen. “It’s unhygienic either way.”

She stuck her tongue out him, comfortable being juvenile around him. “It’s only a missed day.”

He laughed and then turned serious. “Well, despite what I feel about your bathing regimen, I wouldn’t stop quite yet. He didn’t seem too happy about calling on Yoshina—frustrated, even. So I don’t think you’re out of the woods yet. Wait a while longer…maybe ‘til he has a steady woman in his life. He’s about the age to be married anyway, and after that, you’re clear.”

She sighed, massaging her temples and no longer feeling so excited about her grilled yellowtail over rice. “Fair enough. Whatever it takes.”

“You looked stressed. Care for a spar?” That was another thing that she and Izuna often bonded over; he loved to test her abilities at every chance.

“Yes, but you take the fall if a patient comes and I’m not here.” Izuna frowned. “Your aniki likes conflict, remember?” She smirked at him.

“I should have seen that coming. _Never_ give a woman ammunition; she’ll always use it on you at some point or another.” However, it was clear from his tone that he was teasing.

“Great. Let me head back to my room and I’ll change. Can’t very well spar in my frock.”

“See you at the training grounds. Meet me by the big oak. Ja ne!” Izuna left and Sakura quickly finished the rest of her food—even though she’d lost a good bit of her appetite upon realizing her strife with the bastard wasn’t over—before heading over to the main house to change into clothing more appropriate for sparring.

The Uchiha compound was as large as the atmosphere was unfriendly, at least towards her. Buying herbs at the singular store that sold them was always a trial, since that was the only place she could go and request them because the bastard wouldn’t let her leave the village.

On her way to the main house, she passed a few women with their children, who she had recently treated for the virus. They nodded at her gave her a small smiles, while one of the children waved at her.

“Konnichiwa, doctor-sama!” called the little girl. Sakura recalled that her name was Kiki.

“Konnichiwa, Kiki-chan, Orime-sama,” she replied politely. Orime, Kiki’s mother, returned the greeting, and Sakura knelt down to Kiki’s level. “Have you been feeling better?”

“Much!” the six-year-old chirped happily. “Doctor-sama is very good!”

“Well, thank you, Kiki-chan. I’m glad you’re well again.”

“Doctor-sama,” Orime suddenly said hesitantly. “Would you be willing to take on an apprentice?” She sounded extremely uncertain as she motioned to her oldest daughter, whom Sakura had not met yet. She looked to be eleven or so. “This is my eldest, Karima.”

Apparently, Hanata’s opinion that she was a miracle worker had truly spread far and wide.

Sakura halted uncertainly at the thought of being a mentor, but didn’t brush the thought away immediately. Perhaps if Karima became proficient enough, Madara would not see a need for her anymore. It was unlikely, but worth a shot. “Hello, Karima-san. Are you interested in becoming a healer?”

The girl was very shy. “H-hai, doctor-sama.” She blushed. “Otou-san d-did not think I w-was good enough t-to be a k-kunoichi, b-but I want to h-help.”

Karima reminded Sakura much of Hinata before she had finally stood up to her father. This consequently made Sakura like her immediately and the thought of taking on Karima as an apprentice, while she didn’t necessarily deem herself a good enough healer to be worthy of teaching, didn’t sound too bad.

“I’ll think about it, Karima-san,” Sakura said at last. “Why don’t you come by my office when I’m not busy and we’ll see what you can do before going on from there?”

“H-hai, doctor-sama!” she said, sounding excited.

“Arigatou gozaimasu,” Orime said, sounding both relieved and grateful at the same time. “Come now, children. Doctor-sama is very busy.”

The children consented but not before Karima said, with a great deal of confidence not seen before, “Y-you won’t regret this, doctor-sama!”

Sakura smiled and waved before continuing towards the main house.

She passed the bastard as she entered through the front entrance. He looked at her skeptically.

“You are supposed to be at work.”

“Yes, Madara-sama,” she said calmly, remembering the necessity to be polite instinctively despite his accusing tone. “But Izuna asked me to spar, so I thought I’d comply.” While she was always polite with him now, she didn’t deem him worthy of a smile or any friendliness.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you spar with him often?”

Sakura responded thoughtlessly. “Not as much as I’d like to.”

A thoughtful look appeared on his face and Sakura knew at once what he said next would not please her. “You will spar with me tonight after dinner.”

She stiffened. Oh dear, not good. Any kind of physical contact with the bastard wasn’t in the plan. However, she couldn’t rightly defy him and say no; it wasn’t like he couldn’t make her anyways. So, despite her inner protests, she nodded. “Of course.”

“Come prepared,” he said, beginning to walk again. “I won’t go easy on you.”

She swallowed with some difficulty. She was _no match_ for the Uchiha clan head—Izuna, perhaps, but she was under the suspicion he went easy on her at times, and of course, he agreed to not use the sharingan most of the time. Those times she usually won; when he did use his kekkai genkai, she lost more often than not, although not always.

As Sakura changed out of her doctor’s clothing, Sakura felt a pit settle in her stomach.

This was not good, not good at all.


	7. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparring leads to something unwanted, but there's nothing Sakura can do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darker and darker. You are warned.

Izuna and Sakura were more talkative than usual at dinner and the pinkette seemed particularly fidgety. She didn’t make eye contact with him once during the meal and when he made a comment directed at her she was clearly reluctant to respond; even if it weren’t visible he would have known because of their bond.

Another thing that was rather odd was that Izuna offered to observe and Sakura had said yes with a strange vehemence, but he’d in the end refused Izuna’s presence. He wanted to be alone with her— his otouto got to spend plenty of time with her. It was his turn.

In all honesty, he’d been looking forward to spending more time with the beautiful girl but clan affairs always seemed to get in the way. He knew he’d frightened her with the kiss, but in that moment he hadn’t been able to resist. Thinking back on the event, he admitted it was somewhat strange he’d lost control like that. He didn’t regret it in the slightest but he had noticed that soon after she’d cut her hair shorter and become extremely compliant whenever she happened to see him. It was a bit of a put-out; he’d found her fiery temper rather attractive.

He decided that he would goad her during their spar to see that inner flame again.

As they walked towards a clearing where they could spar, he silently observed her. Sakura looked good in shinobi attire. Her curves were more prominent in the tight-fitting red shirt she wore and black tights that reached her mid-thigh revealed long, muscled legs. Her weapons holster was tied firmly to her hip but apparently she did not use a particular weapon when fighting, although with the strength he had seen in her arms when she’d dislocated his shoulder it probably wasn’t necessary. Walking behind her, he openly admired the supple curve of her rear and the muscles hidden beneath her pale, creamy skin. She walked tall, carrying herself with a confidence and ease that was extremely attractive.

When they arrived at the main house’s private training ground, they squared off. He had decided to leave his gunbai in his room; this was a spar and he was more curious about her skills than winning.

However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t win.

Sakura slid into a defensive stance, mirroring his own, and they circled each other, not a word spoken the entire time. After a few moments, he moved to a more relaxed position. “Are you going to dance or are you going to stand there?”

He could feel her brimming with the intent to yell at him, but she simply responded calmly, “I was under the impression you were the one who wanted to spar.”

He smirked. “Very well.”

In a flash he leapt from the ground, flinging several kunai at her as he sailed forward. She dodged two and blocked the third with her own kunai before leaping backward to keep space between them. He quickly closed the gap and she continued to dodge him, pivoting and twisting with flexibility that turned his mind to other things than sparring.

Nonetheless, she was avoiding him.

As he fought her, he was somewhat disappointed. It was clear by her speed that she was a medic-nin; they were meant to stay as safe as possible and evasion and dodging were key elements to their training, but she refused to show any offensive capabilities. He was aware of her strength with her fists, but she wasn’t demonstrating anything other than avoidance.

It was becoming irritating.

“Dance, Sakura,” he commanded, allowing a sharp jolt of pain to reach her through the bond when she intended to ignore him. He saw her flinch and was pleased to notice the flare of anger in her eyes. She vaulted forward and slammed her fist into the ground, creating a large crater that he easily jumped back from.

Following the attack and through the cloud of dirt she threw several precisely aimed kunai at him. He dodged the first with ease before returning the second and third back at her. He heard one thunk into a tree, but the second hit flesh.

The dust cleared and revealed a deep cut on her bicep. However, she didn’t let this faze her as she flew at him again. Madara could have easily dodged her but he wanted to test her taijutsu.

She aimed predictably with her right hand, which she seemed to do often, and he silently disapproved of the predictability. Not a moment later, the fist was retracted as she shifted her body midair and she swung in a hard kick to his side. He chose to let it hit but to his surprise she was able to send him skidding away and it was going to leave a nasty bruise. Apparently she could fill her legs with chakra as well.

Perfect control indeed.

As she landed she stomped her foot, creating an even larger crater between them, but instead of jumping backwards he leapt forward, bringing her to arm’s length. She attempted to evade but he gripped her arm, twisting it behind her before slamming her into the ground and holding a kunai to her throat.

Unlike what he’d told her earlier, he’d gone extremely easy on her. It would have been much too easy to kill her; she was a rather skilled kunoichi for her age but her real prowess was in healing and in his opinion, she did not belong on the battlefield. At all.

“Concede,” she said through gritted teeth. He supposed his grip on her arm was rather unforgiving, but he was too distracted to notice.

As he pressed her into the grass in the light of the setting sun, her rear pressing into his groin and her breathing labored beneath him, he smelled a sweet, womanly scent unlike anything he’d ever smelled before.

It took a moment before he realized what it was. He wasn’t smelling the bath oils or even a freshly-cleaned body. The scent he’d caught was all Sakura—all beautiful, tempting Sakura.

“ _Concede,_ ” she said more strongly, beginning to struggle beneath him. She wouldn’t have done so if she was aware of how much it aroused him; he very much enjoyed heated play-fighting in bed. He loved the struggle, the conflict despite he was immensely more powerful than any of his partners and could have them pinned in seconds. It was the fight for dominance that aroused him so.

He ignored her, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. She immediately stilled, her breathing growing shallow.

Dragging his nose through her short hair, he reached the nape of her neck and brushed his lips along the soft, smooth skin. He let his tongue lave over her pulse point, caught up in the temptation that was Haruno Sakura.

“Get. Off,” she enunciated angrily, craning her neck away from the grass—and his mouth—to make sure she was heard. And she _was_ heard—but also ignored.

He flipped her over in a swift movement and her eyes widened. She swung up at him with her free arm, but he evaded the fist, catching her wrist instead and slamming it into the ground.

His sharingan activated, he memorized every feature of her face from the way her lips were parted slightly and her eyes were wide and fearful.

“Kiss me,” he murmured hotly.

“What? No-” Her voiced trembled but immediately turned into a cry as pain jolted through her, a result of her denying his will.

Madara was certain the pain was intense and he let it grow until he knew she would be willing to cooperate. As tears began to trail down the side of her face to the grass and she looked at him pleadingly, he crashed his lips into hers, his tongue quickly parting her lips.

Tentatively, she opened her mouth wider. As her tongue met his, and he wondered at her experience. The way she kissed was reluctant—which was to be expected—but also uncertain and gentle. It was this inexperience that sent fire raging through his loins and he claimed her mouth viciously, forcing her tongue to tangle with his.

He angled his mouth against hers as they kissed, vaguely noticing that there were still fresh tears on her face. He paused, kissing down her jawline and leaving her lips parted and bruised. She panted heavily and her chest heaved with withheld sobs, but he was too distracted in finding her pulse point once again to notice. He laved his tongue over the sensitive skin, reveling in her taste, and her breath hitched. He repeated the action, finding her sudden gasp exciting, before biting down hard and then sucking on the over-sensitized skin. Her breathy whimper made his cock swell uncomfortably.

“Stop,” she whispered, her voice soft and afraid. He paused. “Please.”

It was in the moment he pulled away—although he hadn’t intended to stop—that Izuna’s voice rang through the training grounds. “Sakura! There has been an ambush; you’re needed in the healing sector!”

Madara growled instinctively at being interrupted and begrudgingly placed a final kiss on her neck before getting off her. He offered his hand but she ignored it, standing on her own and rushing off at top speed towards the healing sector without so much as a farewell.

Izuna approached him. “What’s going on, aniki?”

“Nothing, Izuna. Please tell Yoshina to go to my quarters immediately.”

Izuna left swiftly and without another word. Madara didn’t miss the disgruntled look on his face. Interesting.

Madara stalked back into the main house, aching for the woman who’d just run to attend to her patients. He growled lowly, imagining her willingly touching them, soothing their wounds with gentle hands and offering comfort as she healed them.

He was determined to get the same affection from her, no matter the cost. His thoughts whirled raucously in his mind and his cock pulsed at the imagery that flashed before his eyes, reminding him of his impromptu tryst with the pinkette.

No matter; he would spend his frustrations on Yoshina and he would see the object of his affections the next day. She would not be spending her time in the hospital tomorrow.

She would be with him.


	8. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara goes too far and Izuna takes action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm updating. Sorry for the inconsistency, everyone! Life gets in the way and all that...

When Sakura woke, she was relieved to know that she at least another eight hours to compose herself and figure out a way to avoid Madara. She knew now that whether or not the bastard was sleeping with another woman apparently didn’t mean her safety from him. She _had_ to escape. Somehow, she had to remove the seal. She couldn’t stay; she had to be free of him.

There was no other way to keep her sanity.

However, when Sakura left her room and went to have breakfast with the other servants, she was horrified to learn that the very person she wanted to avoid so badly had ordered for her to spend the day with him. Her food was all but ignored.

She panicked when Izuna came to fetch her. She pleaded with him, she begged him to convince his aniki to leave her alone.

But Izuna was strangely cold toward her, even though his eyes softened at her pleas, and told her to follow him. She couldn’t allow this to happen—she couldn’t take it.

So she ran.

She made it as far as the gates to the compound before she fell to her knees, crying out in pain, and crumpled into a heap of tears and screaming.

Izuna was right behind her and he lifted her gently into his lap, smoothing her hair and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She reached for him, grabbing his shirt in her fist and sobbing into it, trying to repress the screams of pain. The more she clung to him the more the pain increased until she felt like she was being burnt alive. Her screams could not be withheld, but they were muffled by Izuna’s chest.

“Release her, otouto,” came a cold voice above them.

“Aniki, she’s in pain!” Vaguely, Sakura noted that this was the first time she’d ever heard Izuna say anything to the contrary when it came to Madara.

“She brought it upon herself,” said man replied, if possible his voice even colder.

“Aniki, please!”

_“Release her, Izuna.”_

Sakura could barely comprehend the situation around her. She was blinded with pain, her open eyes unseeing and her vocal chords raw from extreme use. Her body was in spasms, motor control unheard of in her body’s distress.

Absently she felt Izuna release her, setting her gently on the ground. Suddenly, the pain disappeared and Sakura was left sobbing and limp on the ground. She made no motion to move.

 “Get up,” Madara commanded. Sakura could only barely comprehend his words, but with the little information she could process with her mind still numbed from the agony she’d just endured, she weakly got to her knees and then shakily pushed herself into a standing position.

She blinked her bleary eyes in mild confusion at the crowd that had gathered around the scene. Madara waved them away and reluctantly the clansmen dissipated. Finally, she turned to face him, but focused on the ground at his feet.

“I thought I made clear that you will not disobey me,” he said frigidly. “Do you know why you were able to get as far as you did?”

She had no answer to that, although she had somewhat wondered herself.

“I was giving you the chance to rethink your decision. Because you didn’t, you were punished.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek and she bit her lip to repress a sob. ‘The bastard’ didn’t seem like a fitting term for him anymore. It wasn’t cruel enough, wasn’t evil enough.

The more she thought of it, she found that the maliciousness he exuded could not be described with words. She wondered back to the Curse of Hatred. Maybe he already had it…she didn’t understand how he could be so cruel otherwise.

Izuna stood there, watching the interaction. She didn’t know what he was thinking; she didn’t dare look at him. She could not reconcile why the pain had intensified upon being held by him or why it had gone away when he released her.

She was absolutely certain she didn’t want to know.

“I am very displeased that you disobeyed me a second time,” Madara continued. His voice was unforgiving, frigid. “Come with me.”

Hesitantly, she followed him as he turned to walk away. She passed Izuna and he caught her hand. She flinched at the contact, but looking at him and seeing his pained expression, she gave his hand a light squeeze before releasing him quickly so as to not anger Madara. She hurried to make up for the moment of lost time, making sure she was directly behind Madara so as to keep in his good graces.

She couldn’t help it; she was terrified.

Apparently he had no heart. He had been there as she screamed in agony and he had done nothing, going so far as to punish her further because of Izuna’s attempt to comfort her. A small flame of anger flared through her. She hadn’t asked Izuna to hold her—yes, perhaps it had comforted her slightly—but she couldn’t, didn’t want to understand why she had been punished for _his_ actions. She hadn’t done anything wrong!

As they entered through the main house and towards Madara’s office—she was thankful when they passed his room without so much as a pause—Sakura began to cry silently. She was trapped.

She had never felt so hopeless in her life.

* * *

He was calming down as he led her into his office. He honestly hadn’t meant to punish her so harshly, but seeing her in _his brother’s_ arms, clinging to him desperately and sobbing into his shirt, he’d felt rage like he’d never felt before. The affection he craved so much was being given—to his otouto.

He didn’t blame Izuna; sometimes, his brother could be a bleeding heart and Sakura was one of his few close friends—another thing Madara disliked about their relationship. She was bound to _him_ and yet she was closer to Izuna than anyone else in the compound.

In that way, he truly resented his brother.

He would command for them to stay apart and he was sorely inclined to do so, but he didn’t want to hurt his brother with such a demand. Izuna cared for her and he would not punish him for being the kind, giving person that he was. The boy couldn’t help it.

Sakura, however, should know better than to seek comfort in another man.

As he took a seat, it occurred to him that perhaps she didn’t understand the dynamic of their relationship. She was _his_ ; he all but owned her. The seal permanently ensured this. Perhaps, in her independent, fiery way she didn’t understand that.

He would have to tell her then, so that she would not anger him and make him punish her like that again. He didn’t want her to truly fear him; he wanted her to respect him, like him, _love him_.

After all, she was his.

He motioned for her to sit and she did so. With a stab of regret he saw her knees shake as she lowered herself and her hands were still trembling.

It pained him to see her like that because of him, but it couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t disobey him.

“We will speak,” he said, trying to force a modicum of warmth into his voice and make her feel comfortable. “You will be honest with me and I will not lie to you. I will not activate the seal unless you attempt to deceive me.”

She kept her head bowed as she nodded, not looking at him.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

He sensed her reluctance, and to his chagrin, fear at the order, but she did so. She didn’t make eye contact but it was understandable; his sharingan had not deactivated and it wouldn’t. Even as shaken and teary as she was, Sakura was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever come across in his life and he wanted to memorize every detail of her.

Deep down, he knew that he wanted to remember this visage to remind himself next time she disobeyed him—and she would, she wasn’t perfect—because he didn’t want to see her like this again unless it was absolutely necessary to cow her into obedience.

He continued. “What do you understand about the bond we have?” he asked. He wanted to hear from her exactly what she thought; in a desperate sense, he wanted to make sure she didn’t know how much she truly belonged to him. If she did already, then her punishment for clinging to Izuna was deserved.

He truly did not want to hurt her like that, even if it proved necessary.

In a trembling voice, she spoke. “I have to follow your orders or you can punish me. You can sense my intentions if they are against your will.” She took a deep, shaky breath, closing her eyes. “I am your slave.”

He frowned. She was most certainly not his slave and she would not view it like that. “No. You are not my slave. However, you _do_ belong to me, and-”

“That’s the same thing!” she interrupted, her voice shrill. She looked him in the eye, apparently not caring that his sharingan was activated. Her bloodshot eyes made the emerald green of her irises stand out and he was able to see the tiny flecks of lighter jade and silver in them.

Entranced, he did not speak for a moment, before he corrected her. “You will not view our bond as your enslavement.”

Her eyes widened and she raised her voice angrily. “So can you order me what to think now? Can you punish me for what I believe? That’s just like slavery but on a whole new fucking level!”

He frowned at her. “Sakura, be reasonable.”

She stood, fury shimmering in her eyes. “How am I not being reasonable? I was forced to come here and heal you and what do you do? You bind me to you _against my will_ and now I’m stuck here, having to obey your every order! I have to work with people who, even though I save their lives, rarely say so much as a ‘thank you!’ They look down on me because of this damn seal and do you know why? Because they know the truth! I _am_ your slave!”

Rage flashed in his eyes and coursed through him like a wildfire. He stood, towering over her. “Apologize to me. _Now._ ”

“Or what? You’ll fucking punish-”

He didn’t even flinch as her seal activated and she crumpled to the floor, screaming and beginning to cry again. She had gone too far; no one, _no one_ disrespected him the way she had just done.

When she spoke again, it was through harsh sobs, but it wasn’t to apologize. “Liar,” she sobbed, just as another scream erupted from her throat. “You f-fucking bastard l-liar.”

She was quaking now, her body in spasms as she refused to obey him. He was sure her screams could be heard through the house, but he would not relent until she apologized.

“I will come back when you are ready. Remember, I am not affected in the slightest by your behavior. When you have decided to comply, you may send your intention through our bond and I will return.”

Without a second thought, he stood and stepped around her to leave the room.

* * *

 He heard her screams through the walls in his room and his heart clenched. What had happened to his kind, caring brother? Why would he hurt such a wonderful, beautiful girl like Sakura?

He was on his way to see her when he came across his brother. Shock filled him. Why was he not there to take away her pain? Why was he _leaving_ her like this?

Madara spoke before he could say anything. “Izuna, you will leave her.”

“Aniki, she’s hurting! Can you not hear her?” His voice was incredulous.

“She is learning a lesson right now. Go back to your room.”

Without another word, Madara passed him. Izuna saw his gunbai on his back, which meant that he’d stopped by his room to get his favored weapon and was apparently going to train.

How long had he let her suffer?

Izuna was frozen in the hallway, looking at his brother with eyes anew. He had never believed his precious aniki to be so cruel and he still didn’t want to. After Madara was out of earshot and well on his way to the training grounds, Izuna rushed in the direction of the cries.

He found her in his brother’s office, curled in a tight ball. Her screams were hoarse by now, more like croaks than anything. He ran to her side and pulled her into his lap.

“Shh, shh, I’m going to make the pain go away.”

She didn’t respond.

Without caring about the repercussions, he pinched the nerve on her neck and she fell into blissful unconsciousness. Still, tears streamed down her face.

This was too far. He had to do something.


End file.
